How Abu Abraham, the legendary cartoonist, skewered power with wit
In his centenary year, Abu Abraham’s cartoons look so far away in a world of unlimited freedom; an exhibition of his works is a requiem, a reminder and a longing for an age when the press held its head high.
Abu Abraham (1924-2002), whose major works appeared in The Indian Express from the late 1960s to the 1980s, was one of the most loved and admired English-language cartoonists in India, alongside R.K. Laxman. Their tenure and work also marked a great phase in Indian democracy, where the country freely and rollickingly celebrated its newfound freedom while coming to terms with its own contradictions and myriad problems. Now, as Abu’s centenary year is being celebrated and we look back at his enormously funny cartoons — laced with biting sarcasm, irony and humour — we seem to be mourning a period not too long back where the mind could roam free.
Maybe aptly, Abu’s most memorable cartoon is the one drawn during the Emergency when powers of the press were curbed and new laws were being put in place through ordinances. The cartoon shows President Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed in a bathtub, being asked by an official who shoves a paper through the bathroom door, to sign yet another ordinance. “If there are any more ordinances, just ask them to wait,” the President says. Such a cartoon with the President or Prime Minister or even a minister in the bath tub is unimaginable these days because cartooning and the notions of a free press have undergone a rapid change ever since Narendra Modi became PM in 2014. Even if such a cartoon was drawn no newspaper would run it.
He cut Indira Gandhi down to size
Abu was not his name. When his first cartoon was accepted by The Observer, the editor told him that with a name like Abraham, he could be mistaken for a Jew. So, he immediately thought up the name Abu and signed the cartoon. “By a coincidence, Abraham’s tenure at The Indian Express from 1969 t0 1981 also coincided with eventful happenings in the capital and the country — the Bangladesh war, bank nationalisation and the Emergency. Abraham came to The Indian Express in a flourish and had a special cabin made for him — it was carved out of two assistant editors’ cabins. An easel was kept in the centre and he stood there with an apron to do his sketches. From the knee length of space kept free, one could see him in action. He wore a churidar and kurta and always held a pipe. All these were new to the staid Express atmosphere. When he stood before his sketch board, one could see his feet dancing, creating a surreal effect,” says veteran journalist and news editor Sivadas, 85, who was Abu’s colleague for 20 years during those tumultuous days.
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According to Sivadas, he was possessive about his cartoons and came the next morning to get the originals back. “One realised the significance of this when visiting a doctor’s clinic. I found a cartoon of his framed and kept on the wall behind. It was about the first moon landing, showing a space vehicle on the ground and a poor child with an empty bowl. The caption read, ‘Moon and Six Pence’.
Though the Emergency was a tough time for the Press, Abraham, who was a nominated member of the Rajya Sabha at the time, had a rollicking time cutting Indira Gandhi down to size off and on and The Indian Express, the very symbol of a courageous newspaper, ran his cartoon without a hint of fear and dread that looms over newspapers today. When Mohammed Ali visited India, Abu drew him standing and dancing in front of Indira Gandhi sitting on her throne, signifying imperial pride and power. “I’m the Greatest,” Ali says to Mrs Gandhi, who replies, “Oh, really!”
Abu was a secret admirer of Indira Gandhi, but that did not prevent him from taking jabs at her. Like her father, Indira did not take offense at any cartoon and that made Abu even bolder. Although he often poked fun at her, Abu never exaggerated her features into a caricature; she was always depicted as a dainty, beautiful lady. In one cartoon, Indira Gandhi appeared as a many-handed goddess, with M. Karunanidhi whispering from a corner, “Monopolist”. Abu never forgot to highlight her imperial and autocratic nature, once drawing her as a lady watching over the smallish toy-like ministers, each moving around with winding keys screwed into their backs.
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He held a dirty mirror to power
At the Abu Abraham’s centenary exhibition, currently on at Delhi’s India International Centre, all original cartoons are beautifully framed and curated by his daughters, Aiysha Abraham, who lives in Bengaluru, and Janaki Abraham, professor of sociology at Delhi University. Abu also used all types of animals often as metaphors and made his victims mount them or confront them. Former PM Morarji Desai once appeared as a lizard, ready to pounce on flies on the wall which were the Kerala UDF government and the Bengal United Front. Indira Gandhi was shown trying to pull a horse to the water with the caption, “You can take a chief minister to the water but…” . This was about the CMs’ conference she had called to discuss land reforms. Once Y B Chavan was shown as a hen sitting on an egg on which was written ‘Telangana’. The caption read: “Do not disturb”. Advani and Vajpayee were shown riding a tiger called Shiv Sena with Advani quipping: “Quite safe Atalji, as long as we don’t dismount.”
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Romila Thapar, who was his friend from their days in London in the 1950s and 1960s, remembered him as a great friend who was completely outspoken. The well-known historian, who is now 93, recalled how she approached Abu in London quite wary and apprehensive to request him to illustrate a children’s book she had written for Puffin. He happily agreed and the publishers were delighted with his sketches. Ultimately Abu, like Laxman, has to be judged for courageously upholding values of press freedom, now in short supply. Both had the power to go directly to the heart of the matter and in the process if they punctured the egos of those who wielded power so be it. It is not just the early morning guffaw that they instilled in many generations of newspaper readers.
Abu Abraham’s daughters inaugurating the exhibition in New Delhi. Photo: Binoo K. John
“For a quick grasp of the latter half of the last century, take a look at Abu’s cartoons. Having cartooned on post-World War II politics for 13 years from the then vantage Fleet Street, he returned to Indira Gandhi’s India. Few chronicled the story of her experiments with democracy like Abu,” says eminent cartoonist Unny, who has inherited Abu’s mantle at The Indian Express, and has been mocking at power for over four decades now.
Abu, along with Laxman and other cartoonists like Kutty (who was this reporter’s colleague at Anandabazar Patrika), held a dirty mirror to power and often pulled them down to the ground from their lofty pedestals. To look at power and life with that sort of detachment, impishness and daring is a rare virtue and talent. A virtue now being snuffed out of public life and journalism. In that sense, the exhibition of Abu Abraham’s cartoons is a requiem, a reminder and a longing for a different age when the press held its head high.